


The Offering

by katbear



Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Humor, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-05-21
Updated: 2003-05-21
Packaged: 2017-10-21 15:35:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/226771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katbear/pseuds/katbear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Combination challenge line plus MMOM of sorts.  The treaty negotiations take a detour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Offering

**Author's Note:**

> Title: The Offering  
> Archive: MA, AO3  
> Category: PWP, MMoM, humor  
> Rating: NC17  
> Pairing: Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi  
> Feedback: Appreciated.  
> Thanks: To the Lovely Ladies of the List who graciously volunteered as beta readers and provided insights and encouragement (Obi-Ki, Bonny, Christina, Angelica and Bant). All mistakes are my own since I can never resist tweaking.  
> Warnings: If male sex bothers you, you shouldn’t be here.  
> Spoilers: None, pre-TPM.  
> Disclaimer: The boys belong to George Lucas, I'm just playing with them.
> 
> ~ ~ Character internal thoughts  
> // // Thoughts between two characters

"This is quite embarrassing for a professional," Qui-Gon muttered to himself as an errant cool breeze wisped across his bare arse. For the tenth time, he tested the chains that held his arms over his head with the same lack of success as during the first nine attempts. He muttered a few more curses as he thought about how easily they had been taken in; a child crying for help in a dark alley, the silent tranquilizer darts, then blackness as they went down under the rush of a large group of natives.

“Mmmph?” The dark shape near Qui-Gon’s chained ankles stirred and moaned, “What the Force happened?”

“We were captured by these allegedly peaceful indigenous people,” the Jedi master said acidly.

The still clothed but very hog-tied apprentice squirmed around so he could see blearily upward. He blinked several times, then squinted.

“You’re naked, Master.”

“Brilliant observation, Padawan.”

Obi-Wan cranked his head further around so he could take in the entire view towering above him. “Well, Master, you know I’ve always said you really should get *out* more,” he smirked.

“Just because I maintain the dignity appropriate for a Jedi instead of running around in those tight leather pants and those skimpy little things that barely *contain* your private organs, let alone conceal the –“ The stern lecture stopped abruptly as Qui-Gon realized his apprentice was silently repeating the familiar words.

“Padawan.”

“Yes, Master?”

“Are you making fun of me?”

“No, Master.” Hurt innocence radiated from the angelic features.

“Hmmmph.” Qui-Gon sighed and glanced upward in supplication. “Why me, Force? Have I really been such a bad person that you needed to inflict this padawan upon me?”

Obi-Wan grinned, then strained upward so he could look around. The two Jedi were in a small alcove of a very large cave. Sunlight streamed in from several openings far overhead, one beam highlighting what appeared to be an altar area with several statues lining the back wall. He flopped down, letting his cheek rest on the cool stone.

“I knew the negotiations were going too smoothly to be true,” Obi-Wan groused. The Jedi had been called in to negotiate a renewal of the land rights treaty between the four major groups inhabiting Bragnor. It was a peaceful planet where the peoples mostly quietly coexisted, including the pastoral aborigines whose representatives had apparently kidnapped the Jedi. “They haven’t made any demands during the meetings. I wonder what they want?”

“I suspect we shall be enlightened shortly, Padawan. There seems to be a delegation heading our way.” Qui-Gon straightened to his full height, trying to present a calm and dignified appearance, or at least as dignified as one could be with his arms stretched over his head and without clothing.

A group of six natives approached the alcove. On average they were shorter than Obi-Wan, with dark skin, black hair, eight-fingered double-jointed hands, and large, limpid brown eyes. For several minutes they conversed among themselves in their own language, frequently pointing and gesturing first at Qui-Gon, then at Obi-Wan. After much hand waving, a native wearing a red headband produced a large knife and sliced through the apprentice’s bindings. As red headband held his knife at the apprentice’s throat, four others grabbed Obi-Wan, efficiently stripped him and chained him up next to his master. More pointing and conversation followed, with most of the gestures directed toward the groins of the two Jedi.

“Uh, Master?”

“Yes, Padawan?”

“They seem to be awfully interested in our genitals, Master.” Obi-Wan stirred uneasily in his chains. “And I’m not sure I like the way that one keeps rubbing his knife and licking his lips.” He pointed his chin at the native in the red headband. The native noticed the gesture and grinned broadly.

“Patience, Padawan. They have not actually harmed us.”

“Yet,” muttered Obi-Wan, ignoring the sharp look Qui-Gon directed at him.

An elderly man in an elaborately beaded robe and headdress joined the delegation, his appearance starting a new round of gestures and conversation.

// Master, isn’t that the representative who was at the negotiations? // Obi-Wan sent over their bond.

// Yes, it is. Let me handle this. //

Qui-Gon cleared his throat, trying to get the headman’s attention. “Excuse me, Headman cl’Trov. I must point out that it is highly irregular to kidnap the invited negotiators. Please release us and allow us to return to the city.” He smiled magnanimously. “If you take us back so we can continue the negotiations, there will be no hard feelings. I assure you that if your people have issues that have not been addressed, I will be more than happy to see that your views are given a proper hearing.”

Dead silence greeted this pronouncement. Seven sets of eyes stared solemnly up at Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon stared back, occasionally rattling his chains at them. The standoff continued for several minutes until the headman suddenly reached out with one finger and poked the end of Qui-Gon’s penis.

“Hey,” Qui-Gon gasped as his hips automatically jerked back.

“Big jeenya,” cl’Trov pronounced happily, a wide smile on his face.

Obi-Wan snickered.

Qui-Gon turned to glare at his apprentice, not fooled at all by the ingenuous expression on the young man’s face.

At this point the proceedings were loudly interrupted when a very angry male native came stomping up. Taller than his fellow tribesmen and dressed in a feathered white loincloth, armbands and headband, he bellowed and screamed for several minutes. He pointed to himself, waving his arms and making rude gestures at the two Jedi. The headman patiently let him continue until the newcomer made the mistake of poking the headman in the chest with his finger.

With a single gesture from the headman, the native with the red headband immediately jumped in between the two men and put his knife to the newcomer’s throat. Stopping in mid-bellow, the newcomer’s eyes bulged out, then went cross-eyed as he tried to look at the knife. Very, very slowly he backed away from the knife, hands stiff at his sides, until red headband was satisfied with the distance between them and retreated behind the headman. At that point, the entire group started babbling again as the tall newcomer stood alternately glaring from the Jedi to the headman.

Finally the headman held his hand up for silence, and issued a sharp command. The tall native shucked his loincloth as two others went to stand next to Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan.

With a disdainful snort in the direction of the Jedi, the tall native began stroking his penis until he achieved quite an impressive erection. Several of the other warriors gathered around, inspecting him admiringly. The headman produced a length of string with knots at regular intervals and proceeded to measure the length and circumference of the erection and the circumference of the testicles. He announced the results of his measurements as the tall native looked scornfully at the Jedi.

The headman then turned and gestured to the native standing next to Obi-Wan. With great enthusiasm, the native began stroking Obi-Wan’s penis as the young man tried to twist and jerk his hips away. Red headband leapt from behind the headman, grabbed the apprentice’s testicles, put the tip of his knife under the sac, and glared menacingly.

“Padawan, I think you’d better stand still and let him finish,” Qui-Gon stage-whispered.

“That’s easy for you to say, Master,” Obi-Wan snapped. “You’re not the one with the knife at your balls.” Nonetheless he opted for prudence over prudery and stood quite still as the ministrations continued.

Although Obi-Wan Kenobi was a bit shorter in height than the standard for his race, the twenty-two year old Jedi more than made up for that lack with some of his other endowments. Even under these difficult circumstances, he was able to achieve an eminently respectable erection. When the headman measured him and announced the results, there was an enthusiastic round of admiring applause. The tall native challenged the results, but when the two erections were placed head to toe, so to speak, it was clear to all that Obi-Wan was the bigger man. The native huffed and glared, but stood back.

All attention was now turned to the Jedi master. Obi-Wan smiled sadistically and waggled an eyebrow as a native began to vigorously massage Qui-Gon’s flaccid organ.

Qui-Gon Jinn was a very private man, and judging by the growing blush on his face, he was quite embarrassed by the proceedings. His penis was slow to respond at first, leading to a few apprehensive rumbles in the audience. But finally under the continued fondling it began to fill with blood and started to grow.

And grow.

And grow.

There was an awe-struck silence as Qui-Gon, his cheeks glowing scarlet, concentrated on examining the rock formations in the ceiling of the cave. The headman reverently approached the Jedi master and began to measure. Shaking his head in disbelief, he measured again, then hefted the dangling sac. When he turned and announced the results, there was wild cheering and clapping for several minutes.

Eventually cl’Trov dispersed the group, sending the others, including the highly disgruntled tall native, on their way, until only the headman and his red headbanded henchman remained.

The headman approached Qui-Gon and gently patted the head of the Jedi’s still rampant penis. “Biggest jeenya,” he said lovingly.

“Would you mind telling me what in the Hundred Hells of Hordath is going on here,” Qui-Gon spit out through clenched teeth.

“Tomorrow is the offering to Gonard, the god of bountifulness,” cl’Trov explained. “It has been a very bad year. We need to make an especially good offering so he will smile upon us for the coming year.”

“Wait a minute, none of this was ever mentioned in any of the meetings or in our briefings,” Qui-Gon said, his apprehension growing by the second.

The headman waved a hand dismissively. “Our business is our own and outsiders do not need to know.” He gave another slow loving stroke to the huge erection. “You, Master Jedi, will provide the offering.”

"What?" Qui-Gon was having a little trouble thinking with so much of his blood supply currently hanging between his legs. “Why do you need me? And just what is this offering?”

The headman looked up as he tapped Qui-Gon’s sac. “You will provide the life fluid to feed Gonard, of course. Tomorrow morning you will appear before our people and fill the sacred vessel as the sun rises. It will be a good offering,” he finished with a pleased smile.

“Wait a minute ... you want me to ... to provide semen ... publicly?” Qui-Gon finished with a very un-Jedi like squeak as his apprentice smirked.

“Of course. It will be a very great honor.”

“What if I don’t want to ... or can’t?”

The headman considered for a moment. “Well, sometimes Gonard will accept the organs that produce the life fluid instead,” he said thoughtfully.

Red headband smiled and held up his knife, the light glinting off its sharp edge.

“Oh,” Qui-Gon said weakly. He glanced at Obi-Wan. “If I cooperate, you must let my padawan go.”

“After the ceremony is complete you will be the guest of honor at a feast, then we shall all return to the negotiations,” the headman replied. “But in the morning, he shall assist you.”

“Doing what?” Qui-Gon demanded.

“He is your assistant, your apprentice. Therefore he shall assist however necessary.” The headman turned to his henchman. “There was a term in those moving pictures the offworlders had for such an assistant. Do you remember what it was?”

Red headband thought for a moment, then whispered to cl’Trov.

“Ah, yes,” the headman smiled as he turned back to Qui-Gon. “The padawan shall be your fluffer.”

Obi-Wan’s smirk turned into a gut-busting guffaw as Qui-Gon groaned.

********** *********

Qui-Gon paced back and forth in the small hut. They had been unchained, bathed in a hot spring, then brought to this hut where a hearty meal awaited them.

“It’s not funny, Padawan,” Qui-Gon snapped at his apprentice for the fourth time.

“Yes, Master.” Obi-Wan stuffed another piece of fruit in his mouth to keep from grinning.

“We need to escape, Padawan,” Qui-Gon said as he stooped to peer out the doorway.

“Short of using the Force to try to put the whole lot of them down, I’m not sure how we would manage that, Master,” Obi-Wan said reasonably. “We have no clothes, no weapons, we are at an unknown location in the middle of the jungle, and there appear to be several hundred natives gathered out there.”

“There must be a way out.”

“But Master, you know the Council’s policy encourages us to support local customs,” Obi-Wan pointed out thoughtfully. “And if you do really well in the morning, imagine how pleased the natives will be.”

“You are *not* helping, Padawan.” Qui-Gon gritted his teeth.

“Just trying to keep a positive outlook, Master,” Obi-Wan replied cheerfully. He offered Qui-Gon a slice of melon. “You should eat more, Master. You know, to keep your strength up.”

Qui-Gon glared, then stalked over to throw himself on his bedroll. He deliberately turned his back on his apprentice, yanked the blanket up, and lay muttering to himself.

Obi-Wan finished eating and retreated to his bedroll. For quite a while he could be heard whispering an occasional “fluffer,” and erupting into a paroxysm of barely muffled snickers.

************* *************

It was still quite dark when the squad of tribal priests came to retrieve their reluctant guest of honor. After another bath in the hot spring, Qui-Gon was dressed in a short kilt covered in white feathers, white armbands, a white headband and white ankle bands. White stripes were painted from cheek to cheek across his nose. His hair was plaited into a long tail with white feathers. Obi-Wan trailed along during the preparations, seeming quite unconcerned when the only clothing provided to him turned out to be a white headband with a single feather hanging down opposite his braid.

The sky was just turning from gray to a faint orange when the Jedi and priests arrived at the waiting area behind a large open dais next to a pool at the base of a small waterfall. Peering around the edge, Qui-Gon saw a squat pedestal with a large stone bowl positioned at the front edge of the dais. Looking further, he saw lots of natives gathering in the large clearing beyond the dais. He leaned back against the wall and sighed.

“Good morning, Master Jinn.” The headman beamed at the Jedi.

“Good morning, Headman cl’Trov.” Qui-Gon smiled weakly. “I don’t suppose there is any way I could dissuade you from continuing with this?”

“Do not worry, Master Jinn.” The headman patted the front of the kilt. “You have big jeenya, much life fluid. Gonard will be very pleased.”

One of the priests handed a large container of oil to Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon looked at the container warily. “What is that for?”

“For whatever you might need it for,” the headman replied. “You will have approximately one of your hours to provide as much life fluid as you can into the sacred vessel. Then the priest will make the offering to Gonard.”

“An hour?” Qui-Gon blanched.

“About that, yes. From when the sun first appears at the top of the waterfall until the base of the waterfall is alight.”

“Don’t worry, Master,” Obi-Wan whispered. “I’ll help you. And, after all, you *are* a Jedi master. I’m sure the Force will be with you.” His apparent sincerity was rather spoiled by the leering smile that he couldn’t quite contain.

“You are enjoying this altogether too much, Padawan,” Qui-Gon growled.

Obi-Wan sobered, touching one hand to Qui-Gon’s arm. “You can do this, Master. Just one hour and they’ll let us both go. It is obviously very important to these people if they were willing to risk kidnapping two Jedi.”

Qui-Gon looked at his apprentice and took a deep breath. “You’re right, of course.” He smiled crookedly. “I suppose I could just pretend that we’re back at home. I have to admit this isn’t exactly one of my sexual fantasies, but I guess it will have do for today.”

“That’s the spirit, Master.” Obi-Wan smiled back, a cocky encouraging grin. “And don’t worry, your fluffer will be right there to keep you on track.” He reached down and pinched Qui-Gon’s arse.

Qui-Gon jumped, knocking down one of the priests. Apologetically helping the small humanoid to his feet, he was suddenly struck by the absurdity of the whole situation. He laughed, a loud belly laugh that brought stares from everyone, then leaned down to kiss Obi-Wan. He was still catching his breath as one of the priests took his arm and pulled him out to face the crowd.

*********** ************

Excited chattering rose from the hundreds of natives packed into the clearing as a dozen priests preceded Qui-Gon onto the dais. Obi-Wan dutifully followed two steps behind his master with the oil and several cloths.

At a signal from the headman, silence fell over the gathered crowd. As the priests chanted for several minutes, Qui-Gon noted that the sunlight was just approaching the top of the waterfall. Looking down again, he inspected the sacred stone vessel at the front of the dais.

~ Force, the damned thing is ... big, ~ he thought as he glanced out over the crowd and shuddered. ~ I hope they aren’t expecting me to *literally* fill that. Even Jedi aren’t *that* good. ~

Qui-Gon’s speculations were cut short when he was pushed forward and the priests retreated to the back of the dais. The headman paused only long enough to snatch off Qui-Gon’s kilt before joining them.

For a long moment Qui-Gon stood frozen in front of the expectant crowd, caught short by the unexpectedly sudden unveiling of his assets. He was rescued from his momentary funk when Obi-Wan knelt beside him, grabbed his hand and poured a generous dollop of oil into his master’s right palm.

“Live in the moment, Master,” Obi-Wan whispered cheekily as he pushed the large hand toward the flaccid organ.

Shaking his head at his impudent apprentice, Qui-Gon focused his consciousness inward, closing out the crowd. He started stroking his penis, long slow strokes from root to head. His slick palm slid easily down his rapidly hardening length and he quickly fell into a steady rhythm, letting the sensations roll through his body for several minutes. Remembering belatedly that the objective was quantity rather than quality, he stroked faster, using his left hand to squeeze his balls. Harder, faster, pulling in long strokes until his balls tightened and the heavy white fluid began flowing into the stone bowl. He pulled a few more times, giving one last squeeze to his balls as the stream petered out. Peering down into the bowl, he was absurdly pleased at the very respectable quantity of liquid already in the vessel.

“Don’t stop now, Master,” came a silky whisper in Qui-Gon’s ear. “We’re just getting started.”

Qui-Gon felt his apprentice’s naked body pressing closely behind him. Closing his eyes, he gave himself up to the new sensations. Hot flesh slid against hot flesh. Sweat trickled down his face, slid down his chest. Qui-Gon leaned his head to the side as a smooth tongue licked at his ear and teeth nipped the side of his neck. Two strong arms reached around him and handfuls of oil poured down his belly, bathing his cock. Slippery fingers tweaked his nipples, sending sparks down his spine and into his quickening organ.

“Oh, yes,” Qui-Gon moaned. “Oh, yes, Obi-Wan.”

Qui-Gon reached down to stroke his cock again. It was still half hard from his earlier masturbation and it was the work of only a few moments to bring it to full quivering attention. The hot flesh against his back began to slide up and down, rubbing against him as two busy hands continued to fondle and twist his hard nipples. His pulse raced and his breath came harsh and quick. Qui-Gon stroked faster, letting his new orgasm build quickly. Teeth bit down at the base of his neck, soft lips kissed away the pain. The hard length rubbing between the cheeks of his arse was enough to send him shooting over the edge with a strangled moan. White liquid splashed into the stone bowl, sliding down the inner surface.

Weak at the knees and breathing hard, Qui-Gon was content for the moment to lean back against the comforting solidness of his apprentice. He felt drained and empty, sweat pouring down off him. Blood thrummed in his ears. Two arms wrapped around him, holding him. A hand slid down to rub slow circles on his oiled belly.

“You’re doing well, Master,” Obi-Wan whispered. “The natives are quite impressed. Just feel the energy they’re generating into the Force.”

Keeping his eyes closed, Qui-Gon opened his senses to the Force. Swirls of anxiety were being overridden by waves of excitement and joyous anticipation.

“There’s still a lot of time left, Master,” Obi-Wan murmured to Qui-Gon as he licked his ear. “They’re expecting at least one more.”

“Damn,” grunted Qui-Gon. “This isn’t exactly the kind of thing I’ve practiced for.”

“Hang on, Master. Your fluffer is going to take care of you.”

Qui-Gon could hear the wicked glee in his apprentice’s voice and groaned. He straightened up, drawing a deep breath as Obi-Wan stepped away. He relaxed a little and let himself draw energy from the buzzing crowd.

Obi-Wan took a cloth in each hand, buying a bit of time by rubbing down his master’s body, wiping off the sweat and oil from his head down to his thighs, before thoroughly cleaning his genitals.

Eyes closed, Qui-Gon leaned his head back, drawing in several slow deep breaths of the sweet morning air. He drew in more energy from the crowd until finally he felt ready to try it again.

“Time for some more oil, Padawan,” Qui-Gon murmured. Vaguely he wondered where his apprentice had gone.

Qui-Gon’s eyes flew open when he felt soft lips sucking on the tip of his penis. He was momentarily breathless as he looked down to see Obi-Wan on his knees, eyes alight as he wrapped his lips around his master’s cock. Qui-Gon moaned as Obi-Wan’s tongue dipped into the slit in the end of his cock, teasing in and out, then swirled around the head.

“Obi-Wan, oh ... yesss, yessss.”

Qui-Gon’s hands clenched at his side as his pulse shot up. He could feel his shaft hardening as Obi-Wan’s tongue lovingly drew long wet stripes from root to tip, pausing occasionally to suck on the head. A stray passing thought briefly paid homage to his apprentice’s remarkable skills before the capacity for coherent thought left him altogether. Blood thundered in Qui-Gon’s ears as new beads of sweat popped out on his skin. He licked dry lips, catching a salty trickle inching past the corner of his mouth.

Obi-Wan sucked on Qui-Gon’s cock, drawing it deep into his throat, then pulling off to tease at the head, tongue tantalizing the slit and tickling at the sensitive spot just behind the ridge. One hand held the master’s left hip, the other sneaked down to fondle the heavy sac.

“Force, oh yes ... so good,” Qui-Gon moaned, oblivious to anything but the heavenly sensations in his groin.

For several minutes the delightful torture continued. Hot, wet suction as the heavy cock was pulled deep into his apprentice’s throat, then cool air causing an exquisite tingling as Obi-Wan pulled back, his agile tongue playing around the head, licking and swirling. Qui-Gon placed his hands on Obi-Wan’s head, the spiky hair wet under his fingers. He moaned again as callused fingers squeezed his balls, then shuddered as a single feather tickled at the skin of his perineum and opening. Qui-Gon began to pump his hips, forcing his cock deeper. Obi-Wan obligingly relaxed his throat, letting the hard cock surge in. Qui-Gon heard a loud hum and felt a strange vibration surround his shaft, the feeling sending sparks up his spine. In and out he pumped into the hot suction, moaning his pleasure. He felt his balls begin to churn, tightening, drawing up.

“Obi-Wan,” he gasped, “I’m going to come, Obi-Wan.” He reached down to push his apprentice aside, grabbing his organ to ensure it was directed at the stone bowl.

Qui-Gon managed one hard pull on his cock before the sudden intrusion of a slick finger deep into his opening sent a sheet of white-hot fire through his body. He roared in ecstasy, his cries echoing through the clearing, as his cock spasmed, sending spurt after spurt of hot white liquid shooting into the stone bowl. He moaned in completion, only vaguely aware of the strong arm around his waist holding him upright, the hand milking the last possible bit of seed from his limp cock. He sank to his knees, quivering, weak, completely spent.

It seemed like ages, but in reality only a few minutes had passed when Qui-Gon opened his eyes. Obi-Wan knelt beside him, still holding him. Two priests held up the stone bowl, expressions of awe and amazement on their faces. The crowd stomped and cheered wildly as the vessel was reverently carried to the large statue at the edge of the pool. After a short litany of petition and response chanting between priests and the crowd, the contents of the stone vessel were slowly poured into the hole in the belly of the statue. After another thunderous round of cheers, the natives slowly began to disperse, humming and chattering with excitement.

The headman came over to the kneeling Jedi and draped a blanket around Qui-Gon. His red headbanded henchman carefully deposited two neatly folded stacks containing the Jedi’s uniforms, boots and lightsabers. Both natives bowed very low.

“Many years I have been headman, Master Jedi,” cl’Trov said. “Never before have I seen such a generous offering. Gonard is very pleased - he will bless us with bountiful crops and game, make many healthy babies.” Tears of joy trickled down the elder's face. “I am sorry we brought you here against your will, but we were desperate and are very grateful for your help. We are in your debt.” He bowed again. “When you are ready, please join us at the feast. Our people wish to show their appreciation for what you have done for us. I promise we will take you back to the negotiations afterwards.”

Qui-Gon inclined his head, which was about all the movement he felt capable of at the moment. In the face of such happiness, he could not bring himself to utter words of reproach for being dragged into this against his will. In any event, he strongly suspected his apprentice had actually enjoyed the adventure far more than was good for him.

“It was an honor to be able to assist your people, Headman cl’Trov,” Qui-Gon replied graciously. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to rest and clean up before joining the feast.”

“Of course, of course,” the headman beamed. “If you require anything, just ask.” He bowed again and left the Jedi on the now empty dais.

Qui-Gon remaining kneeling, feeling sated and drowsy as Obi-Wan slowly kneaded his shoulders. Glancing behind him, he saw that Obi-Wan was still naked, his feathered headband askew and a wicked smile on his lips.

”Well, I guess that wasn’t so bad after all,” Qui-Gon casually remarked.

“I thought it turned out quite well, Master,” Obi-Wan said. “I was just wondering, though ...”

“Yes, Padawan?” Qui-Gon cautiously ventured.

“Well, I was just wondering how the Council will react when you get to the section in your mission report that explains about your fluffer.”

Qui-Gon just groaned and buried his head in his hands.

finis


End file.
